


Worth The Price

by Aurora Cee (SC182)



Category: Glee, Supernatural
Genre: Dark fic, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, M/M, Soul Selling, Stealth Crossover, sex harrassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 00:44:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SC182/pseuds/Aurora%20Cee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who said selling a soul wouldn’t be awesome? It totally was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth The Price

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: A dark exploration of how Dave and Kurt could have gotten together after NBK. Spoilers through NBK and early seasons of Supernatural.
> 
> Thanks to Lexalicious70 for the beta.
> 
> Formerly titled " Dave Karosky, Soul Seller".
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters herein. The characters are the property of their creators and Fox Studios. Any deviation (or deviant behavior) from the originals, however, is mine.

  
He once heard a story about a guitar player who sold his soul to be the best blues player in the world. In theory, he got the concept of selling a soul, like the Pythagorean Theorem or unicorns, or something else just as abstract. It made sense if it was stared at long enough. Unlike the others, selling a soul actually had practical applications. Such an exchange was done to get the things that were just far too out of reach: an X-Box, a billion dollars, a sick Corvette, or an amazing piece of ass.  
  
A piece ass of was why he was standing in the middle of a worn-down dirt road in the middle of the woods behind McKinley. Karofsky had been called dumb his whole life. In fact, he was far from dumb, just pretended to be a dumb asshole to keep the rest of the pack from asking too many questions.  
  
At the moment, he was so fucking desperate, literally up shit’s creek without a paddle. The memory of that guy in the story barreled into his skull like freight train when he was in the middle of considering jumping off the school roof. A voice as clear as Hummel’s screeching and far less irritating told him to come here. Bring a box with some stuff in it and wait; he figured he must have lost his shit after kissing Hummel. He had to be crazy to actually kiss him.  
  
But it felt so good.  
  
No, he wouldn’t go down that path. Like freaking Tom Cruise on Family Guy, he could outrun _those_ kinds of thoughts.  
  
His parents, at least, believed he was at Azimio’s house for the night, if they only knew the truth. His dad would insist on putting him on meds, the zombie-making kind, if he knew about him hanging out in the woods just because a mysterious voice told him to.  
  
The outer display on his busted cell phone read midnight and Dave had had enough of feeding the crazy. He was going home before he got caught or did something totally foolish.  
  
As he turned away, a voice floated out of the darkness behind him. “Hello, David.” He turned to find a man smiling at him.  
  
Not just some creeper who lived in the woods. This guy looked like any other man he might have seen around town, minus one very obvious thing. Eyes yellow like the hell spawn of Red Bull and Mountain Dew stared back at him and the smile on man’s face grew more confident. Then he took a few steps forward. “Glad to see you got my message before doing anything stupid.”  
  
At least, Dave could relax just a smidge since the voice in his head turned out to be legit. “You called me here?” How the hell did that happen, Karofsky wondered.  
  
Yellow Eyes nodded and rocked back on his heels much like a man without a care in the world. “You’re a special boy and don’t even realize just how special you are. It absolutely amazing or at least it is from my point of view.” He lifted the box from the dirt, brushed it off and peeked inside. His Sandy Ryerson creeptastic grin grew to the edges of his face before drawing taunt into a smirk. “I’m not asking you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, just what you normally do—kickass and take names. And you’re so good at it, David. So very good.” He closed the box with a solid smack to the lid. “I see you going far, kid.”  
  
This man who somehow knew Karofsky’s name oozed charm, almost to the point of being sickening. The dude freaked Karofsky out. Who wouldn’t be freaked when looking into eyes like those? Or dealing with someone claiming to have sent telepathic messages into his head? Freaking crazy was what it was. Then again, the guy had just paid him a compliment, so Dave figured he could balance the risks and benefits for a while longer.  
  
Yeah, kicking ass was one of his likes on Facebook. Why not make it a real thing? “Am I selling you my soul or what, dude? Cause I gotta get back or my parents are gonna kill me.” His parents were already riding his ass like jockeys in the Kentucky Derby for fucking up in Spanish and Pre-Cal. He also failed to mention that he wanted to hit the Mickey D’s drive thru before they shut it down for the night. He could really use a couple of burgers to fill his stomach, or the void inside of him—not that he’d just thought that.  
  
Yellow Eyes snapped his fingers again, way too freaking close to David’s ear, leaving them ringing after the burst of sound. “David, what I’m going to offer you will be worth more than your soul. Don’t worry, you can keep it.” He raised his arms up and brought them around Dave in a hug that rivaled any of his father’s. “I can give you exactly what you want with very little effort.”  
  
Dude, he was not down for all this touchy feely shit. There was only one person he wanted to touch and that was Fancy. And that was only in the event of Hummel being too drunk to probably realize that it Karofsky touching him. “ And what’s that?” He asked, curious about Yellow Eyes's assumption.  
  
Yellow Eyes’s hug grew tighter. “That squeaky-voiced piece of ass that pushed you away.” His warm breath that smelled surprisingly like mint tickled Karofsky’s ear as he whispered, “Male piece of ass, by the way; I can dig it though. Whatever floats your boat, Slick.” He clapped Karofsky’s shoulder like his words hadn’t just taken the boy for a loop. “I say get while the gettin’ is good, because the gettin’ always has a way of drying up way too quickly.”  
  
“I’m not--,” Dave tried to refute, but Yellow Eyes waved him off. “Okay, whatever.”  
  
Yellow Eyes held Dave at arm’s length. “I’m not interested in labels. This is the twenty-first century after all, people just need to get over themselves already. You can have whatever you want as long as you give me what I want.” He held up a finger to stop Dave’s need to interrupt. “And I’ll be generous and tell you what I want, which is for you to say 'yes'. You’re a leader, David, and I need you to say yes when the time comes.”  
  
Dave could totally get behind saying yes. That was why he was here anyway. “All I gotta do is say yes? That's it? Nothing else. Just saying yes is all you want?”  
  
Dave lost his footing as Yellow Eyes released him. “You say yes right now, and buddy boy, you get to keep your soul, get the girl—I mean, boy of your dreams without anyone so much as blinking an eye and you’ll get unfathomable power.” Sensing Dave’s confusion at his word choice, he amended, “Unlimited power, get me now? I’m talking the kind of power that makes being on top of the high school food chain look like an ant hill next to a skyscraper.”  
  
He wanted Fancy, no fucking doubt about it. He wanted Fancy for years. But he couldn’t risk taking any shit from anyone. Zim, Puckerman, Lagenthal were sure to give him shit, if they knew, but Yellow Eyes promised him. Like that high def quality voice in his head, a picture formed from the ether--Fancy decked out in those fuck me tight white pants, white Keds, that uber sleek red sweater dress thing that clung to every curve of his body and hung off of one shoulder with a red silk scarf tied around his smooth pale throat. And Fancy stared up at him, so eager and full of want, waiting for him, just him and no one else to touch him, make him laugh or stroke him until he cried.  
  
Fuck it, he would be the one for Fancy now and always.  
  
With a snap of Yellow Eyes’ fingers, the vision disappeared, leaving Dave reeling from his lapse into whatever the fuck that was. “No fuss, no mess; everything your way, just like at Burger King, which I know you know about,” said Yellow Eyes, smirking like the cat with the canary its mouth.  
  
Was that a fat joke from this yellow-eyed fuck? “Watch it, dude,” Karofsky growled. Besides, he preferred McDonald’s.  
  
That razor sharp shark grin returned, leaving Yellow Eyes to nod apologetically. “Sorry, old habit. So what do you say, David? Are you gonna to have it your way or are you gonna let everything you want pass you by, ‘cause I can tell you, boy, the longer you wait, the sooner Fancy is going to get fucked by some smooth talking pretty boy.”  
  
Fuck that. If Yellow Eyes was telling the truth and he could have everything: Fancy, Zim, football, hockey and still give shit to Hudson for being lame, then he would say yes a million times over.  
  
“To say yes,” Yellow Eyes counted off, “We gotta do what they do in fairy tales, big boy. Say yes and we pucker up, seal it with a kiss and you can get everything your heart desires.”  
  
The hell? “Dude, you can’t be serious.”  
  
The bitchface thrown Karofsky’s way would have given Kurt something to aspire to. “Going once…going twice…”  
  
Dave rushed forward, “Alright, dude, yes. Okay, I’m saying yes.” The things he did for Fancy. Bitch better appreciate his sacrifices.  
  
The kiss was simple enough. It didn’t make Dave even the slightest bit horny, just because Yellow Eyes was, like, forty at least and the yellow eyes thing couldn’t be healthy. He was thankful there was no tongue involved.  
  
When the kiss was done, Yellow Eyes dusted Dave’s shoulders off and turned him around and pushed him towards his truck. “Go home and get a good night sleep, because your future starts tomorrow.”  
  
“Wait--” Dave stumbled.  
  
“Fancy will be all yours starting tomorrow and enjoy what you’ve got for the time being, Kid. ‘Cause young love is so…” Yellow Eyes gagged, then laughed, “Enjoy yourself and relax, Fancy will be waiting for you. I took care of that slushie problem for you. No one’s going to mess with you and there will be no falling down the social food chain either.”  
  
“Um, thanks, dude.” That was an unexpectedly nice perk.  
  
Yellow Eyes turned away and stalked towards the center of the crossroads. “Don’t worry about it. Trust me, you’re doin’ me a big favor.” He waved at Dave behind his back. “I hope you get some rest, because the next time we meet, we’ll have work to do.”  
  
It dawned on Dave that he had no idea what this guy was. For all he knew, the guy could have been a schizo perv with a wicked case of jaundice or had a diet of too many carrots or lemons like that one time on an episode of Scrubs. But he had a feeling, one that tightened from his stomach to his balls that told him that was not the case. “What do I call you?”  
  
“I was wondering when you’d get to that.” He kept walking, whistling a jaunty tune that rose into the silent night sky. “Name’s Azazel, David, and it was so very nice to meet you.” He waggled his fingers and marched away. “Don’t do anything to Fancy that I wouldn’t do.” Which meant do everything.  
  
And then he was gone.  
  
Karofsky drove home, thinking about the weird meeting in the woods and the promises on both sides. As he crept into the backdoor and climbed the stairs to his room, barely managing to miss the weak third step, he was steadily filled with a sense of glee.  
  
Tomorrow, Fancy would be his and no one would give a fuck.  
  
He whistled the yellow eyed man’s tune. Everything was coming up Karofsky. Just awesome.


End file.
